


The Little Wooden Pistol

by phidari



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Cinderella, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ballroom Dancing, Brainwashing, M/M, Male Cinderella, Minor Jane Crocker/Dirk Strider, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phidari/pseuds/phidari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peasant boy Jake English gets the chance of a lifetime when a fairy-godmother-in-training sends him to Prince Dirk's royal ball. [ABANDONED]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this was my attempt to make myself care about writing Homestuck fic again. It didn't work. If anyone wants to take this and remix or add on to it themselves, be my guest.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a brother and a sister. They were the children of a wealthy baroness, for all the good that did them—while their mother lived in opulence, they were treated as servants. They dressed in rags aside from the rare times when their mother took them out in public with her. Every day, they were allowed neither food nor rest until they had cleaned the lavish gown their mother had worn out the night before; until the floors they scrubbed were clean enough to eat off of; and until the yard, so overgrown with thorns and brambles, was neat as could be. The brother and sister went hungry on many days, and were worked to the bone on many more.

One day the king and queen of the land announced that they would be holding a masquerade ball to find a bride for their son, the prince. All the noble families were invited to attend. The brother and the sister thought nothing of it, assuming that they would spend that night, like every other, doing the chores their mother had laid out for them. What a shock it was, then, when their mother took the sister aside and informed her that she would attend the ball, she would dance with the prince, and most surprisingly of all, she would marry the prince.

Their mother presented to the sister a gown that flowed red as blood, high-heeled slippers made of ruby, a red half-mask and a tiara that glinted ominously as the mother and daughter boarded the carriage that would bear them to the palace.

The brother could only sigh wistfully as they left him behind to finish cleaning the dinner dishes.

❦

Scrub. Rinse. Dry. Stack. Scrub rinse dry stack. Scrub. Scrubscrubscrub—

"Con _sarn_ it," Jake Crocker swore under his breath as his fingernails picked at food that had stubbornly dried onto a plate. Washing the dishes was not his forte. Okay, neither was scrubbing the floor, or making the beds, or doing the laundry. He was just plain bad at cleaning. He usually had to ride on Jane's coattails to avoid punishment, but now she was away and all of the post-dinner chores were up to him to complete.

Jake picked and poked at the stupid plate until it finally slipped out of his wet, soapy hands. It hit the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces, and Jake stomped his foot. "Fucksicles!"

He caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to get a better look. A bright green glow shimmered in the corner of the room, expanding and pulsing. Jake shouted and jumped backward, eyes growing wide with fright as the glow swooped down on the broken plate, surrounded it, and lifted it onto the countertop, once more whole.

When the glow coalesced into the form of a petite girl in a flowing black gown, a hood draped over her head and a wand in her hand, Jake was too busy staring agape to say a word.

"Oh, um—" The girl blanched when she saw Jake's stunned face. "I'm so sorry, love. Are you quite all right?"

"Um," was all Jake said.

"That plate should be like new now! Don't worry." The girl smiled gently and shook her wand. Green sparks flew out of the tip. "More importantly than that, Jake, you look as though you could use my help."

"I reckon I could use anyone's help right about now," he confessed. "But who in the seven blazing hells are you and what are you doing in my house?!"

"Oh, dear! I should have introduced myself straight off." The girl smiled sheepishly. "My name is Calliope, and I'm the fairy godmother in training who has been assigned to your case."

"Fairy whosit-now?"

"Fairy godmother! In training," Calliope was quick to emphasize. "I'm here to help you and your sister out of this terrible rut you're caught in. Speaking of whom, where is she?"

All of Jake's wonder and amazement crashed, then, and frowned bitterly again. "She's gone to the ball with Mother. She's to marry the prince, supposedly, while I sit here like chopped liver."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry, sweetie." Calliope frowned. "But I suppose that means my job is already half done! Now I just need to get you to the ball too and all will be well."

"Wait, what?"

She waved her wand at the dishes and they rose up out of the sink, suddenly sparkling like new, and flew into their respective cupboards. Another wave, this time aimed at the floor, and it was as clean as though it had just been mopped. "Did you have any other chores you needed to get done tonight? We can't have you getting in trouble, now."

"I, er... Well, there's the laundry..."

Calliope waved her wand yet again, and from elsewhere in the house Jake could hear the sound of whooshing. "There we go. Now for the important part: What would you like to wear? A tuxedo, mayhaps?" With another spurt of magic, Jake's rags were suddenly replaced by a dashing white pantsuit, shiny black shoes on his feet and a green bowtie tied around his neck. His spectacles were replaced by a mask covering both eyes, the same color as his tie, through which he was still miraculously able to see.

"This is incredible, Calliope!" Jake exclaimed. "And you say I'll truly be able to attend the ball alongside Jane? That I'll get the chance to mingle with high society? Eat hors d'oeuvres and caviar and shit? Seriously?"

Calliope smiled shyly. "That is the plan, yes. There's still time for you to make it and not be late, so let's not dawdle, shall we?" She stepped toward the door that led out into the garden, beckoning for Jake to follow. He didn't even hesitate.

"Now," said Calliope once they were outside. "First of all we should finalize your outfit."

"Finalize?" Jake looked down at himself. "It looks pretty dang final as it is now."

"Yes, it's very nice as it is, but it's rather plain! It could use a personal touch or two." Calliope rubbed her chin. She swept her wand through the air and a nice pair of cufflinks appeared at the ends of Jake's sleeves. "Hmm..." Another sweep, and a sheath appeared strapped to his side. He grabbed the handle jutting out of it, and found that it contained a beautiful ceremonial sword.

"A sword?!" Jake exclaimed. "Oh no, I couldn't!"

"Don't be shy, love!"

"It's not that, it's just—if you're anticipating any sort of dastardliness I'll need to protect the proceedings from, pistols are more my forte."

"Pistols?" Calliope's brows furrowed. She waved her wand, though, and the sword was replaced with two gun holsters, one on each hip.

Jake pulled a gun out and gasped. It was smaller than he'd been expecting, with wooden outer paneling. The barrel curved smoothly into the grip. The hammer and trigger were both golden, and the wood was intricately carved with what looked like floral designs. It was the most beautiful thing Jake had ever seen. He set it back in its holster and pulled the other one out; it was identical.

"There." Calliope beamed. "Now all we need is a carriage to send you off to the ball."

"I can walk," Jake insisted.

"No, no, that won't do. It will take you far too long!" Calliope looked around the garden contemplatively. "But what... Oh!" She pointed her wand at a particularly large gourd that was growing in the pumpkin patch. A flourish of magic surrounded it and it rose into the air, spinning about and growing until it was at least ten times its previous size. The fleshy exterior took on a wooden sheen, doors opened up on either side and wheels sprouted. Soon it was a full-fledged carriage, albeit a strangely orange one.

Jake didn't care. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. ...well, after the twin derringers, anyway. He stared in awe, his face threatening to split apart from the width of his grin.

"And we'll need horses and a conductor for you. That's easily done." Calliope worked her magic once more, and the next thing Jake knew, his dog Halley had become a middle-aged man sitting at the front of the carriage holding the reigns of two horses that had previously been skittering dormice.

Calliope turned to Jake. Her smile was nowhere near as radiant as his, but it was still lovely, he thought. "Now, just a few things before you go. You've until midnight on the dot to return home. I'm still in training, after all," she said with a bit of an ashamed blush, "so I'm afraid that's the limit of my magic. When the clock strikes twelve everything will be as it was. Do you understand?"

Jake nodded. Truthfully, though, he was only half paying attention. His mind was already wandering to the ball and what it must be like there amongst all the lords and ladies and other nobles. Maybe he would even meet the prince! Gosh, wouldn't that be something?

"Right, then." Calliope nudged Jake toward the carriage. "Off you go, then, love."

As Halley helped Jake step up into the carriage, the boy called over his shoulder, "I am forever in your debt, Miss Calliope. Thank you so much for this opportunity!"

They waved to each other as the carriage drove off down the dusty country road. Once Jake was out of sight, Calliope sighed happily. What a wonderful start to her career.

❦

Jake fidgeted in the carriage as it zipped along dark tree-lined roads. It took about fifteen minutes for it to approach the royal palace, by which time he was thoroughly beside himself with anticipation.

The carriage pulled up outside the palace and Halley offered a hand to Jake to help him down. Jake stared up at the towering building in awe; it seemed to stretch upward for miles. It was starkly white and seemed to glow in the moonlight. Towers spiraled upward from either side of the palace. The drawbridge was lowered, providing passage over the surrounding moat.

"I'll be waiting when you return," Halley assured Jake. Jake leapt in surprise; he hadn't been expecting him to speak.

"Oh, er— of course! I'll be back in a bit, old boy." He gave his dog-turned-coachman a big hug, then turned and hurried across the bridge into the palace.

If Jake had been impressed by the exterior of the palace, the interior was even more incredible. He stepped into the lobby and was awestruck by the stark whiteness of the room. There was a fountain in the center, gold trim on the tables and walls and furniture, and the tile floor was polished to a reflective sheen.

"Have you an invitation?" asked a man in a suit standing by the door.

"Invitation? Um, er..." Jake made a show of patting down his pockets and was all prepared to say he must have just plumb lost it—he'd really hate to be turned away now!—but he felt something in his breast pocket and pulled it out. It was a small slip of paper with golden engraving, reading, _You are cordially invited to the royal masquerade ball celebrating the debut of Prince Dirk._ "Well, look at that! It seems I do have one." He waved it in the air.

"Very well, then." The man frowned near-imperceptibly and waved a hand toward a hall shooting off from the lobby. "Follow the crowd to the ballroom. Enjoy your stay, young master."

 _Young master_. Hot damn.

Jake joined the bustling crowd into the ballroom, which was even more impressive than the lobby. The ceiling seemed to stretch up forever, and the room seemed big enough to contain everyone in the kingdom, if need be—it certainly _seemed_ as though that many people were there.

An orchestra was in a pit set aside at one corner of the room, playing a brisk waltz while people mingled and danced. Along one wall, tables were set up with all sorts of fancy appetizers and drinks, all perfectly suited for a royal gathering such as this.

For nearly an hour, Jake simply mingled. He tried a mouthful of caviar and promptly spat it out into a wastecan; he spilled some punch on his suit, and was relieved to find that it appeared to be magically enchanted against stains. He was too in awe of his surroundings to ask any of the women to dance, or to strike up conversation, but at one point a bob-haired girl of about seventeen, wearing a long blue gown and a mask with a strangely web-like texture, tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he'd like this dance.

"So are you here to marry the prince?" Jake asked the girl—who introduced herself as Aranea—as he made a distinguished effort not to step on her feet.

Aranea winced as Jake stepped on one of her feet anyway. "Oh, no, I'm taken. Which isn't to say it wouldn't be an honor, but it's one I'll leave to some other lucky girl."

They danced for a few minutes, until Aranea was tugged away by a girl with two long braids, a mask literally _dripping_ glitter, and a loud pink dress. Jake resumed his wandering.

Eventually, though, he found himself tiring of being surrounded by so many strangers. He ducked out through one door to the balcony, where a few couples were talking quietly. There was one boy about Jake's age standing as far away from the door as he could. He seemed non-threatening, so Jake sidled up to him and grinned.

"Nice night, isn't it?" Okay, so Jake wasn't that great at small talk.

The other boy shrugged. Moving closer, Jake was able to get a good look at him. The boy's skin was a couple of shades darker than Jake's and his blond hair stunningly spiky. He wore a black tux, orange tie, and an utterly bizarre mask over his eyes — it was made of what looked to be glass, and hooked over his ears like spectacles rather than tying off behind his head; but unlike spectacles the glass was tinted dark and molded into the shape of two interlocking scalene triangles.

"Quite the interesting domino you've got there," Jake remarked.

The boy snorted. "Don't use words if you don't know what they mean. A domino's one of those half-masks. You know, like this." He held a hand over one eye.

"O-oh." Jake glanced away awkwardly. He turned his gaze to the garden beneath the balcony. "What is that, then?"

"I'll tell you a secret if you promise not to spread it around."

"Deal!"

Maybe it was Jake's exuberance, but the other boy seemed to accept that. "It's not even a mask, it's just sunglasses."

"...and sunglasses would be?"

"Tinted spectacles you wear to protect your eyes from the sun. They're kind of a new thing around here, but I hear they've got some traction in the East."

"Huh," Jake remarked. "How enlightening!"

"But you didn't come here to hear me ramble about that shit," said the other boy. "What're you doing out here?"

"Well, it's just..." Jake glanced over his shoulder, back through the door and into the ballroom. Yep. Still crowded. "I'm merely taking a breather, that's all."

The other boy didn't miss Jake's hesitation, though. "You too, huh."

Jake stuck a hand out toward him. "The name's Jake, by the by! Jake Crocker. And who might you be?"

The light was dim and his spectacles were dark, but Jake was almost sure he could see his conversation partner blink in surprise. It took him a few seconds to respond, "Call me Timaeus," and he shook Jake's hand.

"Ooh, mysterious." Jake laughed.

"A guy's got to have a few secrets." Timaeus grinned.

"And far be it from me to pry them out of you. That would be downright impolite." Smiling now, Jake returned to gazing out at the garden. "Gosh, though, this place truly is amazing, isn't it?"

"How so?" Timaeus tilted his head.

"It's so large, so..." Jake waved his hands in the air to indicate something akin to "sprawling". "But then I live way out in the sticks, so perhaps this is just how things are around here. I suppose I wouldn't really know."

"Sounds like you wouldn't." Timaeus shrugged. "You really think this is something? Huh."

"For example, how does the royal family maintain a garden of this size? My sister and I work for hours in ours back home and it's not even a _fraction_ as large."

Timaeus's voice took on a tinge of amusement as he responded, "They have a team of royal gardeners, Jake."

"Oh. Do they?" That made sense now that he thought about it.

"Plus a whole fuckload of maids and shit to keep the palace clean."

"Huh." You learn something new every day, Jake thought.

From inside, the music slowed down to a more languid pace. Many of the other guests lingering out on the balcony turned to go back inside.

"You should head back in," Timaeus suggested. "This one's a slow dance."

Jake chuckled nervously. "I came here alone."

"You're not the only one. Go find the girl of your dreams, bro."

"I'm sure all of the girls in there are here to marry the prince, not to dance with a complete nobody like me!"

"You'd be surprised." When Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion, Timaeus elaborated, "They all know the chances of the prince picking any given girl are vanishingly small, considering how many fair maidens turned out for the ball. I'm sure at least one of 'em wouldn't mind taking a hunk like you home as a consolation prize."

"A hunk? Consola— wait just a dad-gummed moment here, Timaeus!"

Timaeus snickered. "Let me guess. You don't know how to dance, do you?"

"I didn't say that!"

"You don't know how to dance."

"Hmph!" Jake puffed his cheeks out, red-faced from embarrassment.

"Want me to teach you?"

The question was incongruous with the look on Timaeus' face; by all rights it should have been a haughty smirk, but he looked completely genuine. And he was holding a hand out toward Jake.

"You... mean it?"

Timaeus nodded.

"Well... why not!" Jake took Timaeus' hand.

"Just follow my lead."

Timaeus took a step back, and Jake took a step forward, careful not to step on his foot. Back, right, forward, left, back. It was actually a pretty simple pattern.

Back, right, forward, left. Repeat. Now that Jake didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of everyone, he was able to relax and go with it. He smiled, and for some reason Timaeus glanced away, looking flustered.

It was a good thing Jake wasn't eligible to marry the prince, because he was starting to get the idea that he wouldn't mind staying out here on the balcony all night long. In the moonlight that shone down on them, the distant music of the orchestra serving as a backdrop, Jake thought that Timaeus might just be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

❦

Once Jake had the hang of the whole dancing thing, they took a break. Timaeus led Jake down off the balcony into the garden—dismissing protests of "Is this even allowed?" with "Don't worry, it's fine,"—and they laid there in the grass, looking up at the stars for a good long while.

"Do you go to a lot of balls like this?" Jake inquired.

"Eh, every now and then." Timaeus rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. "Can't say I'm a big fan of 'em."

"Sounds like you're living the high life. I wonder what it must be like..." Jake sighed and turned his gaze to one flickering star or another.

Timaeus propped himself up on his side and peered quizzically at Jake. "What do you mean? You're here too, aren't you?"

"This is my first time, though, and it's only thanks to the kind intervention of a mysterious benefactor that I was able to make it. I wasn't even planning on coming until the last minute!"

"Wow, really?" Timaeus laughed. "Guess that explains the abysmal dancing skills."

"Hey! I think I picked it up fairly quickly." Jake puffed his cheeks out, but Timaeus just reached out and fluffed his hair.

In the distance, a bell tolled.

Timaeus groaned and rolled over onto his back. "Oh, great."

"What? What is it?"

The bell sounded for a good ten seconds, then died down. Another one began to chime.

"It's midnight," Timaeus replied with a roll of his eyes. "Means I have to go inside and— Jake?"

Jake wasn't even listening after the word _midnight_. He scrambled to his feet and rushed back toward the palace. "Sorry! I must be going!"

"What? Wait!"

Jake leapt up onto the balcony and ran into the ballroom. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How had he lost track of time like this?! He stumbled into the lobby, out the front door, and misjudged the height of the stairs—he went sprawling to the ground. One of his pistols went skittering out of its holster but he didn't have time to get it now, he just had to—

"Jake! Hold up, man!"

The bell chimed again. Was this the fourth time? He couldn't be sure. There was no way he would make it home in time, fuck, _fuck!_

Jake pushed himself up and ran for the other side of the moat. Halley was waiting there with the carriage, looking quite anxious himself.

He leapt into the carriage and they were off, barrelling toward home.

Looking back, he could see Timaeus standing there at the end of the drawbridge, totally crestfallen.

As the twelfth bell chimed in the distance, everything vanished. The carriage became a pumpkin, the coachman became a dog, and Jake's fine garments were replaced by his old rags. The mice that were once horses went skittering into the woods.

Jake sat on the ground, surrounded by the pieces of what had been his carriage. Halley howled mournfully.

"Welp." Jake climbed to his feet and dusted his pants off. "We ought to get a move on, boy. Chop chop."


	2. Chapter 2

Prince Dirk stood at the end of the drawbridge, watching as Jake's carriage retreated into the woods. What a weird dude. It had been nice, though, shooting the shit and hanging out with someone who wasn't expecting anything from him.

He knew he was supposed to get inside to start greeting all the high-class girls who were here to try and seduce him, but he just stood there, staring off into the distance. Maybe Jake would come back. Yeah right, as if—Dirk couldn't fathom why he would just up and abscond like he had, but there was no way he was coming back.

With a sigh, the prince turned and trudged toward the palace.

The moonlight glinted off of something on the ground. It was... a gun? Dirk crouched down and picked it up gingerly. It was a decorative derringer, smaller than normal size but clearly still functional. Come to think of it, hadn't Jake been wearing gun holsters? Was this his?

"Young Highness!" a voice called from inside the lobby.

Dirk hurriedly pocketed the gun after checking to make sure the safety was on. He returned inside.

A butler was standing there wringing his hands. "Young Highness, everyone is worried sick. You were meant to be greeting your suitresses five minutes ago."

"I know, I know. Give me a break." Dirk groaned. "I'm going."

❦

Dirk spent the next couple of hours greeting and conversing with each of the young women who had come to the ball in hopes of earning his hand in marriage. His heart wasn't in it, but none of them seemed to catch on to the reason. With luck, they would just assume he was some stoic royal jerkass.

Lady Roxy Lalonde, heiress to the countess of a particular rural county, was especially persistent. Dirk had been well-acquainted with her since childhood, so he wasn't surprised by how she followed him about the ballroom even as he tried to talk with the other suitresses. He didn't particularly mind, either. She was the only one there who knew the reason he wasn't eager to take a wife—so maybe she was just trying to spare him from the monotony of it all? He could only hope. Considering how often she'd flirted with him in the past, though, he doubted her intentions were that noble.

He liked her well enough, though. She was intelligent and funny and caring, and honestly, a far more interesting person than Dirk was. She wouldn't make a bad wife, if he had to marry a woman.

There was this one girl in a blood-red dress and tiara, though, who caught his eye. She wore a domino over one eye and red-rimmed spectacles over that, and there was just something about her that was familiar.

It didn't take Roxy long to notice that Dirk was staring. She approached him from behind and draped one arm over his shoulder, swirling a glass of wine in her other hand. "Ooh, does someone have a crush?"

"What?" Dirk would have shoved her away, but he knew that by this time of night Roxy could use all the help balancing that she could get.

"You keep starin' at that chick over there." Roxy nodded toward the girl in the dress, who was standing in the midst of the crowd talking to an older woman with long, long hair. Her mother, perhaps? "She's caught your eye, ain't she?"

"Not like that." Dirk kept his voice low, a subtle reminder to Roxy that she should do the same. "I just have this feeling that I've seen her somewhere before."

"Aw. So you're not switching teams?" Roxy slurred.

"Shut _up_." Dirk did shove Roxy away, then, and she went stumbling into a couple who was dancing.

"Dirk— wait, hold on, I'm sorry—"

But Dirk was already approaching the girl in red. He already felt bad about manhandling Roxy—he hadn't meant to actually push her that hard—but he told himself she'd had it coming. He'd find some way to apologize to her later.

For now, he had to find out who this other girl was.

The girl's mother lifted an eyebrow when she saw Dirk approaching. She nudged her daughter's shoulder and gestured, and the girl turned to look at him. Her jaw practically dropped. "Uh—"

"Hey," Dirk said. He wanted to stick his hands in his pockets and slouch, but he knew he had to be all regal and shit, so he stood up straight. "I'm Prince Dirk. And who might you be?"

"I, um— I'm—" The girl couldn't seem to get a word out straight. Then the strangest thing happened; a flash of light seemed to emanate from her tiara, and she flinched. Her eyes glazed over and she gathered up her skirt so she could curtsy in an eerily mechanical fashion. "Jane Crocker, heiress to the Crocker barony. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness."

Okay, what was that? Dirk was glad for his sunglasses, which hid his eyes as he squinted at that tiara. But there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary about it. An optical illusion? Light glinting off of it as a result of the crowd moving around? As he dismissed the oddity, the meaning of her introduction slapped him straight in the face.

_Crocker?_

No wonder she looked familiar. Now that he looked closer, her hair was the same shade of dark chestnut brown as Jake's; her skin the same deep ochre; the lines of her face and round button nose all nearly identical to his.

Dirk said nothing. There had to have been a reason for Jake to run off while his family remained at the ball. It was a mystery that left Dirk incredibly goddamn curious, but he didn't want to take the risk of getting Jake in hot water.

"The pleasure is mine, heiress." He turned his gaze toward Jane's mother. "Which would make you Baroness Crocker, am I right?"

The baroness curtsied in response. "At your service. But I'm not the one who's important here." She set a hand on Jane's shoulder and grinned broadly and disconcertingly. "I do hope you and my daughter get along, your highness. She's been so very excited to meet you."

Jane's teeth worried at her lower lip as she nodded in agreement.

"Well, uh..." It couldn't hurt. Dirk offered a hand to Jane. "Would you like to dance, Jane?"

Her face turned a bright beet red. "I—"

And then she flinched again, and yeah, that tiara was _definitely_ shiny. Shiny like, what was it even made of that it reflected the light of the ballroom so well?

"I would be delighted," Jane said, her monotonous voice free of any trace of delight.

What a weirdo. Maybe Jake had soaked up all the enthusiasm genes and left none for Jane.

Dirk lead her in a moderate waltz, and she was a _much_ better dancer than Jake. Well... sort of. She was almost kind of _too_ good. She followed the prince's movements perfectly. Her limbs moved in a way that could have been called robotic, if robots were a thing that existed in this vaguely medieval fantasy setting. There was basically no life in her movements.

Jane Crocker was incredibly creepy.

"So... is it just you and your mom?" Dirk asked casually. He made small talk with all the girls, so he figured it wouldn't be suspicious to inquire.

Jane took a moment to respond. She twirled under Dirk's up-raised arm and replied, "It doesn't matter."

"No? Why not?"

"I am the one to be wed to you, your highness. My brother is not."

So she _did_ have a brother. That clinched it, even though the actual words she said felt like daggers in his chest. Just another reminder that yep, he was the prince and he had to do this whole "marry a woman, succeed the throne, produce an heir" bullshit.

He kept his face blank, but shrugged. "You don't want me to meet the in-laws? That's cold, Crocker."

"It is irrelevant." And Jane stopped in place, each of her hands firmly gripping one of Dirk's. "You will marry me, Prince Dirk, and that's final."

Dirk raised an eyebrow. He attempted to pull his hands away, but Jane's grip was surprisingly strong. "I don't think so," he responded. "Not if you're gonna ask me like that."

"It was not a request."

Others were noticing the commotion by now. Dancers stopped and stared. Roxy poked her head through the crowd, frowning at the scene.

Baroness Crocker stepped up beside Jane and planted a hand on her shoulder. For a moment Dirk thought she would scold the girl for "unladylike" behavior or some other patriarchal bullshit—whatever, as long as it got Jane to let go of him—but instead the woman grinned, showing off a row of sparkling white, frighteningly sharp teeth.

"I'm afraid my daughter is a bit over-eager," the baroness said. "Isn't that right, Jane?"

Jane didn't respond.

"Oh, let go of him. That's no way to court the prince." The baroness patted her daughter's shoulder, and Jane released Dirk's hands. He rubbed his wrists and stared, baffled, at the mother and daughter. "I do apologize for that, your highness. Jane is just so enamored of you, as I'm sure you can see."

"Uh, yeah, she made that clear. Look, I'm sorry but—"

The baroness curtsied, and Jane followed suit in her unnatural way. "I really am very sorry," said the baroness. "If you would allow it, I would like to make it up to you with a gift." She reached into a pocket in her billowing skirt and pulled out a smallish box, smiling in what was probably meant to look like an apologetic gesture. It really just looked bloodthirsty.

"Wait, why do you have a _gift_ with you?"

Baroness Crocker turned her gaze downward demurely. "It was intended as a gesture of... my daughter's intentions toward you, really." She opened the box to reveal a tiara similar to the one adorning Jane but in a masculine cut, a metallic blood red with inset jewels lining it.

"Well, I appreciate that, but..."

Jane lifted the tiara from the box and held it out toward Dirk. He lifted an eyebrow. He was _not_ going to put on a freaking tiara. Before he could say so, though, Jane stepped closer and set it atop Dirk's head, moving surprisingly quickly.

Dirk sighed. "Look, I—"

And then everything froze. The world around him was suddenly moving at a snail's pace. The ballroom seemed intensely bright. Too bright. He clenched his eyes shut and brought his hands to his temples, but froze before he could so much as touch the tiara.

_Submit._

The word coursed through his mind like fire, flashing behind his eyelids, ringing in his ears. And then everything snapped back into place with jarring suddenness. Dirk's eyes flew open, and he reached out to take Jane's hand, and he found himself saying, "Why don't we dance again?"

❦

The ball didn't last much longer after Prince Dirk's encounter with Jane Crocker. The majority of the guests were sent home, save for Lady Roxy. As the prince's childhood friend, she had been invited to stay the night in the palace.

She spied Dirk in the hall, probably on his way to his room, sometime after the others had left. She picked up her pace, hiking her skirts up so she could move more quickly. "Dirk!"

He didn't stop or even acknowledge that she'd spoke, so she came up beside him and spoke again. "Dirk! Hey, your dorkness, I'm talkin' to you."

Without slowing even a bit or turning his head to look at her, Dirk replied, "What do you want?"

"Wow, rude," Roxy huffed. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm just fine." He stopped outside the door to his bedroom, hand resting on the knob. He was perfectly still, eerily so.

"So, uh... You and that Crocker gal really hit it off." Roxy leaned against the wall. She had long since become accustomed to the fact that Dirk didn't like girls, and despite how it ate away at her, she could live with it. But what if it wasn't girls he didn't like—what if it was just Roxy? Or was Jane Crocker was just _that_ great?

"We are to be wed," was Dirk's only response.

"What? Seriously?" Roxy blinked in surprise. "Uh... congrats."

He nodded brusquely, dropping his hand to his side. Then he started in surprise, as if noticing something, and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a small, decorative derringer and frowned at it.

"...What's that?" Roxy leaned in close to get a better look.

"Nothing of import." He held the gun out toward her, handle-side first. "Do whatever you like with it."

"Uh... okay." She took the gun and frowned down at it. "Are you—"

"Good night, Roxy." And with that Dirk went into his room, shutting the door behind himself.

"Wow, rude." Roxy headed back toward the guest wing, trying to figure out just what the heck was going on here.

❦

"Wake up."

Jake blinked his eyes open and stared blearily up at his sister. Jane stood impassively beside his bed, dressed not in her usual rags but in finery similar to what their mother usually wore. Nothing as fancy as the gown she'd worn last night, but not an everyday sight, either.

"Jane?" Jake mumbled.

"Get out of bed," Jane said. Her voice was flat, her eyes cold.

He pushed himself up and grabbed his glasses off the bedside table. With them on, he could see that his sister was still wearing the tiara she'd had on last night. "What in the dickens, Jane? Can't a guy get some decent shut-eye for once in his life?"

She grabbed his arm and tugged him to his feet. "Mother would like to see you."

Jake's blood ran cold. Had they found out what he'd been up to the night before? Oh god. Oh man. He was in such deep trouble. Excuses raced through his mind as he dressed and as Jane led him downstairs to the living room where the Baroness was waiting.

He sweated bullets.

But she didn't seem angry. In fact, she grinned one of her wide-toothed grins and wrapped an arm around Jane's shoulder. "Did your sister tell you the good news, Jake?"

"Erm... good news, Mother?"

"That she's to be married to the prince!" The Baroness's grin threatened to split her face apart. Jane remained as impassive as she had been since she'd woken Jake up—which was pretty unusual of her, now that he thought of it.

That was the last thing Jake had expected to hear. He gasped. "The... the prince? Wow, gosh! Congratulations, Jane!"

Jane did not respond.

"So, uh... when is the event to take place?" Jake asked, a little more hesitantly. Despite the good news, the atmosphere in the room was starting to feel a little too dense.

"In a week's time." The Baroness placed her hand atop Jane's head. "Just enough time for me to plan the wedding! Jake, you will be present as one of the groomsmen."

Jake nodded. This was wonderful for Jane, even if she was acting zaftier than usual about the entire situation. He knew that after the ceremony was over she would be gone and that would mean his workload would double, but he tried not to think too hard about that. There was no handsome prince or princess to sweep Jake off of his feet and save him from all of this.

(Why, then, could he not shake the image of Timaeus from his mind?)


End file.
